Be Alright

Twenty

Twenty: Shattered

Tyler's hand on my back guides me through the crowd of people standing outside of the venue.

I didn't understand why so many people liked to crowd outside a venue where they didn't have permission to enter, but people always did it. On top of the people waiting to sneak peaks at the celebrities who would be attending, news vans were parked everywhere, waiting to get coverage of the event.

Security did a good job of keeping people back, but the amount of people watching and crowding around didn't help my nerves at all.

When Tyler and I finally make it inside, we're greeted by additional security. I didn't enjoy having the security look through my clutch purse, but I knew it had to happen. You never know what people would do these days.

"Name?" A tall, thin man behind the podium asks us.

"Tyler Watson," Tyler answers him.

The man looks at a clipboard, flipping through pages until he's nearly on the last one.

"Tyler Watson and guest," he reads off the paper before looking over to me.

He then takes his pen and writes something on the page. I presume he's checking us in. I had never been to anything like this, but something tells me that they keep track of everyone who's comes in and out of this building.

"You both are set. Have a good evening," he says with a smile, then directs us towards the oversized double doors that lead into the main room of the building.

When the doors are opened for us to enter, my breath is nearly taken away. I had always heard stories about how extravagant the Mad Gala is, but I never imagined this.

The first thing that grabbed my attention was the large stage in the very back of the room. The focal point of the room is the large projector screen, which I assumed they would use for their auctions and to add effects to the bands performance later.

The majority of the space in the large, rectangular room is taken up by round tables, each having ten gold chairs around the table. Some tables had large, tree like center pieces, each completely gold in color. Other tables had a smaller, gold floral center piece.

The room had dim lighting, most of the light being projected onto he stage. Each of he tables had candles lit, giving enough light to see the other guests and to see the dinner they were preparing to serve.

Tyler found our table number and began directing us towards the front of the room.

It surprised me that we were seated at table number one, right in front of the stage. I knew how these things worked; the more important you are, the closer you are to the front.

When we arrive at table one, I could feel my stomach twist into knots at the people seated around the table. Most of them I had not met before, nor even seen before, but two men stood out from the rest.

Navy and Pinstripe.

"Watson, good to see you again," Pinstripe greats Tyler with a pat on his back.

"You too, Mr. Kensley," Tyler replies, sitting down in his seat.

I take a seat beside him and look around the table, noting how much older these people are. Four older men, accompanied by four older woman. Tyler and I stuck out like a sore thumb, and if that didn't make me queasy enough, the woman to my left immediately started conversation with me.